


The Last Refuge

by rhye



Series: Le Fiston Universe [1]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhye/pseuds/rhye
Summary: A Gaston redemption story.





	1. A New Beast in Town

I woke up naked in the street, face down on dusty cobbles, aware only of pain in my leg. Someone was hitting me. _Clubbing me!_ That could not be tolerated. I rose above the pain and pushed myself up enough to see who wielded the bat. Christian Vallée, the town constable, was winding up for another down swing.

I was totally unable to understand or remember how I had gotten here. There was a crowd-- a mob-- watching this. They were gasping in horror. At me! At Gaston! Christian was frozen, terror on his features. “The beast…” He whimpered.

Ah, now I remembered. I still did not know how I had come to be in the street in the daytime, but I figured Christian must have been trying to beat off the beast and had accidentally hit me. The last thing I remembered was hunting the beast to the nearby castle. I remembered chasing him onto the rooftops.

I remembered falling…

But no, here I was, so that must have been a dream. Though why was I naked? It made no matter. Perhaps everyone was standing and staring because they were enamored of my manhood, or my fine muscular build, or the blanket of dark hair that began on my chest and ran downwards… Well, I’m a beautiful man, put it that way. I should not be surprised if a crowd gathered to see me naked.

I got to my feet, favoring my right leg where it ached. “Where is he?” I shouted. “Christian, give me that.” I held out my hand for his club. It was the mostly likely weapon to hand, and I was sure I could take down that monstrous beast. I didn’t even need the club to do it, but since it was right here...

To my surprise he stepped back from my outstretched hand. And then he did the most ridiculous and nonsensical thing I could imagine-- he pulled out his manacles. “Give me your wrists and no one has to get hurt,” he said.

“You idiot! The beast will get away if we don’t move quickly! Where did he go?”

Christian again seemed confused. He had never been as intelligent as I was, but few people were. “You’re the beast.” Christian said.

“No, of course I’m not.” I knew then I would need to simply take his bat so we could skip all this talk. Then I would find someone with some brains-- LeFou perhaps-- and we would track the beast. After finding some clothes. It is true that LeFou’s name means fool, but I should point out that my long-time friend was sharper than most. He was not at my level, of course, but we mustn’t hold people to impossible standards.

When I lunged for Christian’s bat, he wheeled backwards and hit me hard over the shoulders. Before I knew it, I was in the dust again, this time being bound with manacles. I could have taken Christian in a fight any day of the week even blindfolded with both hands tied behind my back, but I had not been expecting the blow.

Someone called out, “Get the Prince!”

Not long after that, I felt my vision blurring.

*****

I must have blacked out. Perhaps Christian had hit me in the head. When I came to, I was once again in the street. This time, five men stood with guns aimed at my face. I knew them. They were my friends.

“Stanley,” I said, speaking to the man nearest me, “What is the meaning of this?” Usually Stanley could be easily intimidated, but his jaw clenched firm and he did not seem likely to back down.

At that point the crowd parted and two figures on horseback appeared. One was a well-dressed man with yellow hair. The other was--

“LeFou,” I hissed. “What is going on?”

“It happened again,” Christian said.

“What did?” the finely-dressed man asked.

“He turned into a great hulking beast.”

“A beast?” the man asked.

“Not like… more like, a wolf. As tall as a man at the shoulders, and rabid I’m sure of it. We weren’t sure the manacles would hold him.” Christian gestured to the ring of men. “If he broke through them, these lads were going to put him down.”

“What?” LeFou sounded distressed by this, and my heart warmed to know someone else was thinking clearly enough to realize that everyone here was crazy. LeFou stepped forward and put his hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “You can’t.” He turned to the well-dressed man. “They can’t shoot him without even a trial, surely.”

The well-dressed man (who, it may ease your mind to know, was not as well-dressed as I would have been had I not been naked) clapped LeFou on the shoulder. “Have you seen this transformation they spoke of, my friend?”

LeFou, wide eyed, shook his head in the negative. That’s right! Of course he hadn’t seen it, because it hadn’t happened.

“I will stay,” said the unknown man. “If he has transformed twice, perhaps he will a third time. Let’s move him to the jail and wait there.”

I was frog-marched by Christian to the nearby jail cell. This was an indignity! An outrage! “If I’m to be treated as a common criminal, could I at least avail you of some decent clothes?” I asked Christian. To my chagrin, he took off his own jacket and tossed it over me. I could not even put my arms through the sleeves, as my hands were still bound.

LeFou-- wonderful, trusty LeFou-- came forward and tied the coat at my waist so at least my manhood was covered. I appreciated the gesture, but I would have preferred it on my shoulders; I was cold, not ashamed. “LeFou,” I said quietly to him as he looped his arms around me, “You don’t believe this nonsense about a wolf, do you?”

His dark eyes passed quickly over me and he did not answer the question I had asked. Instead, he said, “How are you even alive? You fell _so far_.”

I couldn’t answer him. I did remember falling, but that seemed more like a dream.

Chairs were brought in, and LeFou, the well-dressed man, and Christian sat on the other side of the bars and watched me, as though expecting a magic trick. To no sane man’s surprise, nothing happened. We were all silent for a very long time, but my curiosity is boundless so eventually I asked, “How long are you planning to stare at me?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” The well-dressed man asked.

“I remember asking you how long you were planning to stare at me.” I could have sworn I saw LeFou cover a laugh with his hand. Perhaps he had simply coughed. After all, there could not possibly be a less amusing situation than this one.

“I mean, what do you remember before you woke up here today in the square?”

“Before? I remember hunting the beast to his lair.”

“You don’t remember anything after that night?”

I didn’t speak. I didn’t want to admit this failing.

“What do you remember about that night?”

“I remember I killed him with my own bare hands,” I said, my chin lifting.

“Liar,” he said.

“Yes, I did have my trusty small sword. Details.”

“Liar.”

“I am not! I drove it into his breast--”

“Would you please just stop _lying_! In case you didn’t notice, I stopped five men from shooting you in the face less than an hour ago. I think I deserve more than lies.”

Well, then. I mean, sometimes I exaggerate my accomplishments. Everyone does. What difference did it make to him?

“Gaston, please,” LeFou said.

Something in my gut twisted at LeFou’s pleading voice. I found I could not meet his eyes. “I remember fighting, climbing to the top of a very high turret, and… falling.”

“Nothing after that?” the man asked.

I shook my head, still unable to look up, unwilling to see LeFou’s eyes. What might he think of me to know that I, Gaston, had failed to kill my quarry?

“Nothing at all until today?”

“Was that last night?” I asked. “I woke up in the street with _Christian_ \--” I did look up at this, hoping my eyes conveyed my hatred to the constable. He squirmed “--Beating me in the street like I was some… _orphan_.”

Christian answered very quietly. “We don’t beat orphans, Gaston.”

“Well perhaps if you did, their parents would be more careful not to die.”

The well-dressed man sighed and leaned back. “That was not last night. That was three weeks ago. You have been missing for that long.”

I stepped forward at this. “Missing? I imagine everyone has been beside themselves with anguish. I am here now. Do not fear, my friends, it is truly I, Gaston, and I am back from wherever I was. Now that we have cleared up this misunderstanding--”

“No one was looking for you.” The voice belonged to LeFou. He continued, looking down at his feet. “ _I_ didn’t even look for you.”

“Ah, my friend,” I said, “I forgive you. I know everyone must have been frozen in terror, with a beast on the loose and your hero missing.”

LeFou did look up then. “No, you misunderstand.” He gestured to the well-dressed man. “Prince Adam _was_ the beast. The night you fell, he transformed back into a prince. We celebrated. There was a ball. _No one_ was looking for you. No one cared what had happened to you, so long as you left us all alone.”

The words he said were like daggers in my heart. I couldn’t speak.

“I thought you were dead,” Christian volunteered.

“It was a very long fall,” the well-dressed man, whose name was apparently Prince Adam, said.

“But Christian said there was a beast roaming about today.”

“No, there wasn’t,” Christian said, “Just you. You were the beast.”

“What? I’m sure I would know if I were a beast.” I held up my hands to see them. They were dirty, yes, showing that I needed a bath. My nails could stand a trim. Otherwise, there was nothing remotely beastly about them.

LeFou stood, sighing. “I’m going home. This is too exhausting.”

“Sleep well, friend,” the prince said. LeFou nodded and left the jail.

It wasn’t ten, maybe fifteen seconds before a strange feeling began to overwhelm me. I felt light-headed. Perhaps I needed food or water? My vision began to gray. “I don’t feel so well,” I tried to say, but my tongue was thick like cotton.

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor of the cell, face-down in I didn’t-want-to-think-what. The prince was standing, eyes wide with alarm. When had Christian drawn his sword? LeFou was re-entering the jail. “What?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“He _did_ change,” the prince said. “He even complained about feeling ill… Wait, LeFou, leave again. Walk away down the road, but listen sharp.”

LeFou hesitated. His eyes met mine and I saw something like fear in them. I wanted to tell him, do not be afraid. There was no monster here. But I said nothing as he left again and soon I felt once more that I was about to swoon. I swallowed. “I don’t…” I wanted to let them know I needed water.

I woke up again with my face pressed to the floor. “For God’s sake can’t you see I’m ill!” I snapped. “I need to get out of here! I need some water and a bed.”

The jail door opened and LeFou came in again. The prince was looking at him with wide blue eyes. “It’s you,” he said, his voice redolent with gravity. “There’s a curse on him, alright. When he gets too far from you, he turns into an enormous wolf.”

Well, that was alarming news. I still didn’t quite believe them, but I was a master tracker and there were in fact massive wolf prints on the floor now that hadn’t been there when I had entered the jail. I wanted to cry with the injustice of it. Well, it could be worse. Apparently as long as I stayed near LeFou I would be fine. That didn’t seem like such a hardship, did it? Were we not always together regardless? LeFou adored me. He worshipped me. I turned to him, expecting him to take joy in this predicament.

His face was white as a sheet. He looked like he might be sick.

“I’m going to leave this up to you,” Adam said quietly. “If you don’t want to accept this responsibility, no one would blame you. It seems Gaston doesn’t remember anything from when he is transformed, so we could dispatch him quickly and he wouldn’t know pain. Even if you watch over him, he’s still going to be tried for treason, so he may die anyway. This might be the most merciful path.”

 _Dispatch him_? I was struck by the words I was hearing. What had I ever done wrong? I had done nothing but save the village, time and again. LeFou often called me _the hero nextdoor_.

Tears gathered in LeFou’s eyes, but I knew him well enough to know he would never cry. He took a deep breath in. Out.

“LeFou,” I pleaded. “Please. Mon ami. Did I not save your life on countless occasions?”

LeFou nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I do owe Gaston a life debt. But this is just so he can stand trial. I’m not endorsing anything he’s done.”

“Thank you, thank you.” I fell on my knees in the dirt.

“He can go home with LeFou,” the prince said.

Christian balked at this, but the prince put a hand on his shoulder to sooth him. “If you see him in town in wolf form at any time, you have my permission to put him down.”

 _Put him down_. They considered me an animal.

“And you,” the prince said, pointing at me. “You are only alive by the grace of this man.” He clasped LeFou’s shoulder with his hand. “If he so much as hints that he wants out of this bargain, I will not hesitate to execute you. If I were you, I’d be careful to treat him well and stay close by him.”

I swallowed. My tongue felt thick, but thankfully I was not light-headed, which meant no transformation was eminent.

The prince turned and left. Christian hesitated before unlocking the cell and unchaining my manacles. I untied his jacket from my waist and put it on properly, even doing the buttons to keep me warm. He looked like he was going to ask for it back, but didn’t dare. That’s right, he didn’t dare. I was Gaston and I needed it.

Without a word, LeFou turned to leave the jail. And to my chagrin, I realized I had to follow him, careful not to get too far away. Like a dog on a leash. It made me slightly sick, but it was better than being chained to an idiot like Christian or an arrogant noble like this prince. He was, after all, my LeFou, and I had no doubt he would make me feel better about my situation just as soon as I was home.

I was surprised though when he led me a different way. “This is not my street, LeFou. I haven’t been gone that long.”

Without stopping or looking at me he said, “They burned your house to the ground. You can stay with me.”

Burned my house! That, I think, was the point when I realized I might have misjudged the feelings of the townsfolk with regards to me. Just a tad.


	2. Never Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston attempts to charm LeFou, but the attempt backfires.

When we entered LeFou’s house, I asked him whether he would be amenable to my having a bath. He muttered that I could do whatever I liked, and he walked right out the back door.

Well, I had to follow him, didn’t I? “Where’s your tub?” I asked.

He pointed to a small shed even as he kept walking towards the horse barn. I found myself gauging the distance between the house, the shed, and the barn. How far could I push this? As LeFou walked towards the barn, though, I felt the first rush of lightheadedness that I had already come to associate with a transformation. I stumbled over my own feet to close the distance between us. Luckily, it worked. With each step I made towards LeFou, my vision cleared and my limbs felt stronger. I caught up to him at the barn. He didn’t even comment on my presence, but went on to feed the horses.

Horses! There were two of them in here, his old and cantankerous Buddy, and my beautiful Magnifique. Oh, it was such a delight to see a friendly face! I threw the stall door aside and stepped towards my majestic gelding. “My boy,” I whispered to him. He was happy to see me as well, burying his nose in my chest and nickering. “Did sweet LeFou care for you? What a good boy.”

I noticed that LeFou was watching me with an odd expression on this face. He asked me, “Do you mean the horse is a good boy, or are you calling me a good boy?”

“I meant the horse.”

“Okay. Good.” He poured grain in Magnifique’s bucket and my lovely horse turned from me to the grain.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “He means so much to me.” Magnifique had been my horse since we’d been discharged. I’d bought him in the first town we found. He was somehow intertwined with my sense of personal freedom. With him, I could go wherever I liked.

“I saved a few of your things,” LeFou said, not looking at me. “Your clothes, your weapons.”

“You knew I would return!” I surmised.

He made a noise and shook his head. “I knew they were valuable and that I would need the money.”

This gave me pause. LeFou had thought me dead, and he didn’t mourn, he didn’t search for my body to bury it, he simply _looted_ my _home_. I wanted to be angry, except that regardless of his intentions, it meant he had saved some of my most valuable possessions. How could I be angry at that? And yet...

“Were you planning to sell Magnifique?” I asked. The thought pained me.

He shook his head again, but did not elaborate. Still, it was good enough for me. LeFou was kind to animals, he always had been. Why else did he keep such a useless and angry horse as Buddy? I would have butchered him years ago, had he been mine.

“I thought you were going to take a bath?” LeFou asked.

I nodded. “Then you walked away. I nearly transformed again.”

His eyes went wide at this. “I guess I didn’t think you would have to stay so close.”

“Oh yes, mon ami, you will never find me too far from you.”

He did not seem happy with this, if the grimace on his face was any consolation. Nevertheless, he helped me fetch and fill the tub in silence. He brought a bag of my own clothes to the kitchen and then he left me. He went to his bedroom, closing the door between the two rooms of his house.

I admit I felt better having bathed. LeFou had saved my most valuable clothes, so within the hour I was gleaming and well-dressed again. Still, LeFou did not appear. I knew there was no door out of his bedroom, so it made no sense for me to worry that he would leave me, but I still listened for the subtle creaks of floorboards or sighs that came through the thin wall. They reassured me that he was in fact still here.

He did emerge once. He ignored me completely and came to the kitchen area, where he fixed himself a plate of cheese and fruit, with a roll. He poured himself a cup of water, and retreated with both back to his bedroom.

Well. I felt my own stomach ache with hunger. I thought it was odd that he hadn’t said anything to me or offered to make food for me. LeFou usually fixed me food. This situation must have stressed him to make him feel so out of sorts. I spent some time sorting through LeFou’s larter before finding a dry pork sausage. It was fantastic. Finally, I settled on the couch.

The day passed this way, and it was endlessly boring. I tried to imagine what LeFou was doing in his room. He came out once more for food, again not speaking to me. I stepped out the back door to urinate, glad to see it was not too far.

Sunset felt like a mercy. The day had been tedious. I settled on the couch, chagrined to see that there were no blankets. I stayed there for a while, watching the summer sunlight fade from the room, before fear caught me. How could I be sure I would not transform during the night? What if LeFou left for some reason? What if the night alone was enough to trigger a transformation? I could not rest. I was too concerned for my own life should I transform. I also felt something odd-- I was concerned for LeFou’s life. My life felt half forfeit already, if I am honest. When my future prospects mostly involved hanging out alone in LeFou’s main room, it seemed I might be better off dead than so incredibly bored. But LeFou had taken care of Magnifique. He was taking care of me just by existing. I was worried for him. Finally, I stood and pushed the heavy sideboard in front of the door to his bedroom. Would it stop a rabid man-sized wolf? I could only hope so.

I did eventually fall asleep. When I awoke in the morning, I had a blanket on me. This was odd, since the sideboard was still in front of the door between the main room and LeFou’s room. I hoped I had not been walking about in the night.

The hiss of a pan from the kitchen area caused me to jump. I had not been expecting that! I turned to see LeFou in the kitchen, frying eggs.

“How did you get in here?” I asked.

LeFou looked up at me, and then looked to the blocked door. “I went out my window. Do you mind moving that?”

“The window! I didn’t want you in here! If I _am_ able to turn into a beast, I am not safe to be around.”

LeFou shrugged. “Unfortunately, it seems I have little choice but to be around you. At least for a while more.”

I watched him. He seemed angry with me. I couldn’t imagine what I had done to anger him. It’s not as if I had cursed myself. I’d never been anything but the dearest friend to LeFou, surely. I also knew his anger would not last forever. After all, he had put a blanket on me. This thought made me smile.

My smile disappeared when I realized he had not made even a single egg for me, nor left me any. I was left once more to scrounge for food in his larder, which was beginning to run low.

Alright, I thought. Enough was enough. I knew I was charming beyond belief, and I knew it was my responsibility to charm LeFou so intensely that he would adore spending time with me, want to entertain me, and even sing blessings to the day I was forced to adhere to his side.

It started with the market. That day, I convinced him we needed to go to the market to restock the kitchen. He reluctantly agreed, and we went from cart to cart as he bought his usual goods. All the while, I did my best to charm him. I talked of my hunting victories, of my many virtues, of the number of repetitions I could fit into a workout routine. Nevertheless, he acted as though I was not there. When I did see emotion come into his eyes, it was intense but negative. He was growing angrier with me.

I figured he must not believe my exploits, though he had been there for most of them. The next day I set about demonstrating. I set up a knife-throwing board in his main room and demonstrated my superior ability to hurl his kitchen knives through the air with accuracy. Once, I even hit one hilt with another throw. The knife bounced to the couch and tore a hole through the fabric. Perfect! Now LeFou would always have a souvenir of my marksmanship.  
The next day, I filled the tub with successively more water, demonstrating to him that I was able to lift it over my head even when half full. I think he was impressed with that. At least, the expression on his face was one of pure amazement as I threw down the half-full tub of water, letting my victory splash onto the floor.

The third day, I challenged LeFou to an eating contest. That must have awed him, as he sat with his jaw hanging open, watching me eat every article of food in his kitchen. He was too shocked to even compete with me.

He wasn’t terribly happy that we had to go to the market again that day. Though the townsfolk never ceased to glower at me, I used the sunshine to my best advantage and went through town with my shirt open, hoping LeFou would be so impressed with my musculature that he couldn’t help wanting to be at my side. Unfortunately, the effort was wasted; he kept his head down and didn’t even look at me.

It was only after that walk that I realized none of my attempts to convince LeFou of my greatness had actually worked. He slammed the door after we re-entered his house. “Why do you insist on embarrassing me?” he yelled.

“Embarrassing you? How could I, Gaston, be an embarrassment to anyone?”

He stomped his foot in frustration. “You know what?” he said. “I’m done. From now on, you will not touch my stuff and you will not talk to me, and if you do, I will throw you out and let the town have you.”

I was stunned by this. “LeFou!”

“And another thing,” he snapped. “My name is not ‘LeFou’. It’s Fabien.”

I swear, I did know this. Others will tell you I didn’t, but the knowledge was buried somewhere in my brain. Still, I did not see why he would change his style of address so suddenly. “No one calls you Fabien,” I protested. “Everyone calls you LeFou.”

“Because when they call me LeFou, it’s a nickname, an endearment. When you say it, it’s an insult.”

“It’s not!”

“You think I’m stupid. You think I’m easily manipulated. You’ve proved that already. Now, stop talking to me or leave.”

I was taken aback by his forcefulness. Lefou-- Fabien-- he had never been so forceful with me before. What had gotten him so angry? I mean, I admit I might have used his admiration of me to my own advantage a time or two, but that wasn’t the same as manipulation, was it?

I dared not say anything more, though. I could follow LeFou if he tried to get away, and I could stay close if he kicked me out, but I could not guard him twenty-four hours a day to make sure he didn’t leave. And all he needed to do was ask even one townsperson to find the prince, and I was as good as dead.

So I sat in the main room, and he returned to the bedroom, and we didn’t speak any more.


	3. Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston hits rock bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The backstory here was constructed for Le Fiston, but there was no reason to include it there (though it is hinted at). TW: domestic violence, murder of an OC, was violence, an anti-gay slur, and four dead grouse.

LeFou’s silence affected me. It was something visceral, like the sound of a fiddle bow inexpertly scraped across the strings. It was the endlessly creaking door, or the dripping water you couldn’t un-hear. The silence screeched in my ears, and I can only offer as my excuse that this soundless sound slowly drove me mad.

At first, I was determined to give as good as I got. I would show LeFou that I too could be silent. Soon, I thought, he would miss my voice, my humor, my singing. How I love singing. Swallowing my desire to sing just to punish LeFou was one of the hardest things I had done. But he also loved singing, and he did not sing. He did not speak. He did not look at me. It was as if I did not exist.

I had to follow him, whether he was simply feeding the horses or going to market. More than once I ended up scampering after him half-dressed because he did not wait for me.

Luckily, I was not entirely alone. When LeFou fed the horses or the chickens, I would slip into Magnifique’s stall and lay my head against his neck. I would put my hand to his breastbone and feel his heartbeat. I think if I had not had him, I would have gone mad sooner.

As it was, it took me very little time to lose my mind. After two days of this, I was already unable to sleep. By the third day, I had trouble eating. It was now a week since I’d come to live with LeFou and nothing was at all what I’d imagined. We weren’t friends. We weren’t even acquaintances. I was a ghost.

My reprieve, strangely, came with the arrival of Prince Adam. LeFou welcomed him into the house and the Prince informed LeFou that I was to come to the castle in two days to speak my case before the Prince and Princess. They were to be my judge and jury. Well, it was clear I would hang. I did not know who this Princess was, but I knew the Prince hated me simply because I had tried to kill him. He needed to let that offense go, I thought. It’s not as if I had known he was a prince. I only knew he’d somehow put Belle under a spell. There’s no way she could love a monster otherwise, especially when she claimed she could not love me.

The following day, I took charge. If I was going to be hanged, I wanted to do it as the old Gaston, the one who still had pride. I began to speak to LeFou again. He still did not reply.

In the morning, I bathed. I dressed in my absolute finest clothes and spent a long while brushing my hair until it shone. I hitched Magnifique to LeFou’s one-horse cart. LeFou sat in the back instead of the box where he used to sit. That was fine by me. I was about to die and he still refused to talk to me. His cruelty was boundless. I made sure to hit every pothole between LeFou’s house and the castle, taking secret joy in his exclamations of discomfort.

A boy stabled my horse and LeFou led the way into the castle. We were asked to wait in a monumental library as though it were a proper audience room, and I found myself wondering what sort of queer people this Prince and Princess really were. I got my answer when the door opened and they entered.

“Belle!” There she was, the woman of my dreams, on the arm of that fop. I glanced to LeFou, asking myself whether he had known about this. He seemed nervous, shifting from foot to foot, so I judged that he had. “Why did you not tell me Belle was this _Princess_?” I growled. He did not answer. Well, he wasn’t speaking to me, so I suppose I did not expect him to answer.

Belle was cold when she addressed me. “Gaston. Do you know why you are here?”

“I’m to be tried for treason in the matter of attempting to kill a great beast-- a beast, I might add, that was likely to rampage through our village!”

“He never once threatened the village,” Belle said.

“I couldn’t know whether he planned to.”

“You can’t go around killing people because you think they _might_ possibly someday threaten you.”

“It wasn’t a _person_ ,” I snarled back. “I’m a hunter. I saw an animal that needed killing.”

“Is that some variation on the saying that those with a hammer see all problems as nails?”

“I didn’t have a hammer,” I said.

“No, I didn’t say you did have a hammer. I was just saying…” She sighed and said, “Nevermind.” To the Prince she said, “Sometimes I feel bad for him. He’s just not very bright.”

That was an insult, of course. I had bathed just today and I was wearing a shiny leather jacket embellished with golden buttons. My sword hilt sparkled, as did the buckles on my shoes. In fact, I was without a doubt the brightest person in the room. I decided she was jealous.

“The problem,” the Prince said, addressing the room, “Is Gaston’s curse. I don’t doubt he was cursed for a reason. He did commit treason and the punishment for treason is death. I can’t help but feeling, though, if I were to kill him now, I would be interfering with someone else’s work. I would prefer to wait until the curse runs itself out, and that may also involve his death, but we have no way of knowing when or if the curse will or even could lift on its own. Is that correct, Gaston? No one has spoken to you?”

“Many people have spoken to me,” I clarified. “No one has spoken to me about the curse, though. Except for you.”

LeFou spoke up then. “I… I really can’t go on this way. He’s insufferable.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Have we decided to kill me, then?”

LeFou looked down at his shoes. The Prince kept his chin up and his face impassive. Belle, though, was looking a little sick. Aha! I knew she had feelings for me. “Belle,” I pleaded, “Please. Don’t let them kill me!”

“I know the penalty for treason against the crown is death, but he didn’t truly know he was committing treason,” she said quietly. “Couldn’t we just… exile him?”

“It’s preferable, if we could,” the Prince said, “but I’m afraid the only way to safely exile Gaston is to exile LeFou, as they are bound together.”

“We’ll do it!” I volunteered. All three looked at me agast. “What? I want to live. I’m sure LeFou wants me to live. We’ll leave in the morning. Won’t we, Fabien?”

LeFou’s mouth hung open, but he did not countermand me.

“LeFou, is this what you want?” The Prince asked.

Before LeFou could answer, I pulled my old trick out of the bag. I knew LeFou had romantic feelings for me. I’d be blind not to know. I had used them against him time and again, as I did now. I leaned close to him, looking him in the eyes. “My oldest, my dearest friend. You do not want me to die, do you?”

“No, I…” his voice was quiet. He said it in almost a whisper, and there was something immeasurably sad in his voice. “I _don’t_ want you to die.”

Good LeFou, I thought. Dependable, reliable LeFou.

“But I won’t go with you,” LeFou said. His voice was tight and his dark eyes troubled, but in that moment I had no sympathy for the fat little traitor.

The Prince paced a few steps back and forth and then said, “I will give you both quarters here for the night. You can think on this. We can discuss it in the morning. I don’t like to decide anyone’s fate on a whim.”

We were shown to rooms next to each other, with an adjoining door between. It was very like being back in LeFou’s cottage, actually, except that I was able to sleep in a massive bed with a feather mattress instead of on an old, hard couch.

Someone delivered my dinner, and though no one said so, I was sure I was a prisoner in my room. My only consolation was that this perforce meant LeFou was a prisoner in his as well. I suspected that tomorrow would be my last day on earth. I didn’t believe the words Pere Robert said in mass; I didn’t believe in a heaven or a hell or a God. Jesus Christ was for women and finely-dressed royals and children. Anyone who had marched in a field of battle knew there was no God. I had seen men die, over and over again. I knew what it looked like, what it smelled like. If I had believed in God I would have prayed only for a long drop. There seemed little else to hope for. Except. The one chance I had was to change LeFou’s mind.

It was well after midnight when I tried the doors to LeFou’s room. They were locked. He had locked me out. No matter-- if he thought a locked door could hold me, LeFou didn’t know me very well. I picked up a sturdy chair, braced myself, and cracked the solid oaken doors in two swings.

When I entered his room, I could see LeFou in a beam of moonlight coming through the window. He was sitting up in bed, eyes wide in terror. I suppose he must have thought it was the wolf coming for him at last, and not his greatest friend, Gaston. I probably could have influenced him with more kind words, but I was past kind words. Madness had settled into my bones.

“How dare you?” I said quietly.

He turned to the nightstand and lit a lamp. “How dare _I_? You broke down the door.” He stood and approached me.

“I wouldn’t have _had_ to break it down if you hadn’t locked it.”

“I was afraid of exactly this, of you intruding on me in the middle of the night to try once again to manipulate me into throwing my life away for yours.”

“Oh, I see,” I said slowly. “How many times have I saved your life? How many!?”

He swallowed hard. “Three.”

He knew as well as I did that the answer was four, but we never spoke of the fourth. It was a silent partner that walked beside us.

“Three,” I repeated. “That number sounds familiar. Where have I heard that number before?”

“It commonly comes after two,” LeFou suggested.

I turned on him with a growl. “Don’t play coy with me. Three! I was once one of three. Do you remember that, LeFou.”

He nodded with enough grace to show shame.

“Three of Gaston’s boys went off to war, and one returned. One Gaston, and one _neighbor_. Because I decided to take _you_ as my batman, I decided to save your life, while I let my brothers die. I am sure _they_ would have gone into exile with me.”

“I never asked you to save my life,” LeFou shouted back. “I never asked to be your batman.”

“You would have _died_ without me.”

“If I knew you were going to keep throwing it back into my face for the rest of my life, I wish you would have let me die.”

“It can be arranged.” Before I knew it, I had pinned him to the wall, one of my large hands pressing against his neck.

He could barely breath, but he managed to hiss out the words, “If you kill me, your life is forfeit.”

“You don’t get it,” I said. “I am half-hanged already.”

With the last of his air, Lefou said the only words that could have saved his life in that moment. He knew me too well, my LeFou. He rasped, “You. are. just. like. him.”

I immediately knew who he meant. I saw my hand where it pressed into LeFou’s neck, only for a moment it didn’t seem like mine at all. I saw my father’s hand, wrapping around LeFou’s throat. I saw him in the field that day. _”This is the little shit you let your brothers die for? This little fag? He has you under a spell, Thibault. Once I choke the worthless life out of him, you will be free to find a woman, to marry, to _live_.”_ His hands tightened. I remember what happened next as thought it was done by someone else, as if I was watching from within my own head. I was fast, faster than my father. I rolled towards him, knocking his legs out from under him. He hit the ground, releasing LeFou. He still had a gun, though, and he was bringing it to bear-- not on me, on LeFou. My hands found the bones in his neck.

We’d been hunting grouse that day, me and LeFou. When you shoot a grouse with an arrow, it doesn’t die, it simply flaps around in pain and fear. You grab it from behind and ring its neck until the bones snap. I’d done this to four grouse just that morning. I did this same to my father.

His body fell lifeless to the ground. Without speaking, I dragged him forty yards to the river, and tipped his body over the edge into the current. It would wash up days later downstream, but I had an alibi. LeFou and I had been hunting all morning. We’d seen no one.

We never spoke of it. Not then, in the clearing by the river, and not since. It was the fourth. But neither of us knew how to address it, how to talk about the words my father had said. I remember LeFou, in the field, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He had not cried. We were two war veterans, but nothing had shook me as profoundly as seeing my father almost kill LeFou when I was just feet away. I helped LeFou get back onto his horse. My hands shook so badly I could not even seem to hold my own reins.

My father had always been a violent man, eager to use a switch on me and my brothers, and fists on my mother. I never thought he would kill someone, though. But he had gone after good, kind-hearted LeFou. I did not doubt that my father deserved the death I had given him, which had at least been fast and clean.

And now I knew. I was just like him.

I staggered back, looking from my hands to LeFou. I was surprised that I didn’t see fear in his eyes, only sadness and anger warring for the upper hand. He was right. He had always been right. The wolf was not the monster; _I_ was the monster. I was the master manipulator, the lord of lies who continuously demanded absolute loyalty from the only person who had ever shown me unconditional love.

I turned and ran. I ran as fast as I could, and when my vision started to dim, I clenched my teeth, trying to stave off the transformation. I made it out of the castle before my arms and legs felt numb. I stumbled blindly, urging myself to make it to the edge of the woods at least. I knew I had to put distance between myself and LeFou. I couldn’t trust myself not to hurt him, not to kill him. I knew what the next step must be. I needed to find my own clean death before--

And then the world went black.


	4. A Yearning for Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The climax: an execution attempt, a suicide attempt, a kiss, and a broken curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide attempt.

I awoke to a cloudless blue sky swaying above my head. There was a moment of sheer disorientation where I wondered whether I was alive, but so much of my body screamed in pain that I knew I must be. Once I oriented myself, I realized I was tied to a long wooden post being carried by two of the larger men in town.  
“Hey,” I croaked towards Dimitri, the barman who was holding one half of the post. “Where are you taking me?”

He did not answer, but he stopped walking and called out, “It’s Gaston again!”

Christian’s face appeared and he sneered at me. “I don’t care. The prince said we could kill him. Let’s get on with it before anyone interferes.” The men continued to carry me.

I was relieved that I was facing imminent execution. I wanted-- _needed_ \-- to pay for hurting LeFou. Only then did I realize that LeFou must be _here_ , since I was not transformed. I wished he would stay away.

And then I saw how they intended to kill me. In the center of the town, a bier was loaded with kindling and logs. On each side stood a Y-shaped post. They were going to burn me alive, tied on a post like an animal roasted on a spit.

I could not let it happen. I roared and pulled at the rope binding my wrists and ankles. They did not loosen. I admit, I was terrified beyond reason. I had seen a man burned alive once in Spain. I remembered the smell, remembered his screams. Even an enemy as he was did not deserve such a death. I didn’t mind killing when necessary, whether it is animals or people, but I had never relished suffering. Killing was, to me, a means for an end. It was a way to accomplish a goal. It was not a form of _entertainment_. For that, there was music and dancing.

They hoisted me to the pyre, and my bowels turned to water. I increased my frantic attempts to free myself. I tried rocking back and forth to dislodge the poles, but with no luck. I think I would have broken my own wrists to get free, had an angel not delivered me first. I was still pulling at the restraints, crying out with the effort, when I saw a face, blanched white with fear, through the crowd. LeFou was here, yes, and behind him the prince. Surely the prince would not let them burn me. But it was to LeFou I begged. “Please. _Please_. Fabien. Not this.”

LeFou jumped onto the wood pile, pulling a knife from his side. He kneeled to slice the ropes binding my ankles. I fell to my knees amidst the timber.

Christian advanced. To the prince, Christian cried, “You said we could kill him now!”

I expected the prince to lecture Christian on the proper means of killing enemies, but instead he laid a hand on LeFou’s shoulder and said, “Gaston has made his own fate, my friend. Leave him. He would have burned my castle with both of us inside it.”

It’s possible, I admit. That night I had led a mob on the castle was mostly a haze of anger, and I could no longer doubt that my anger could lead me to all forms of evil. My anger made me a rabid dog, but I would never put down a dog with fire. Maybe I even deserved the flames, but nonetheless I did not want to burn.  
LeFou watched the prince for a moment, and I thought he would probably leave me to roast. But he shook his head. I wonder if he was thinking of that Portuguesa we saw in Spain, and of his screaming agony. LeFou sliced the rope at my wrists.

“LeFou,” I said, rubbing my raw wrists and kneeling with him. The crowd seemed to stop, maybe sensing that I should have the right to say goodbye, or else just waiting for someone else to act. My hand gripped the hand in which LeFou still held his knife. I knew what I wanted. I wanted this beautiful man-- and oh he _was_ beautiful, with dark eyes and full lips and soft curling hair-- I wanted him to be the last thing I saw. I knew he had never taken a life and that I was asking too much of him, but I was selfish. I thought, if I could only look into his eyes as my life left me, maybe my soul would find rest.

Leaning my forehead against his, I whispered, “I have no right to ask this of you, but I must anyway. You know what must be done, mon ami.”

And yet I couldn’t move. His face was _so close_ to mine. His eyes were so wide and so dark. His mouth was so near my own, his lips parted, his panting breaths warm against my skin. They would kill me for this, I thought, and I wanted to laugh. I was kneeling on my funeral pyre. I had nothing in the world left to lose. All the threats my father had made faded to nothing. I was already going to hell. The distance between my mouth and his seemed so small, so small. For years it had always seemed an insurmountable gulf, but that was illusion. It was only inches.

My lips touched his. They were soft and warm and I immediately wanted more. I pulled his bottom lip between mine, and he sighed. There was joy in that sound, and anguish. I covered his mouth with mine and wished this moment would last forever. We had come here far too late. We could have had this years ago, if only I had known my path would lead to my destruction regardless. How many times had I kept myself awake imagining this? How often had I taken myself in hand to thoughts of LeFou? Too many to count.

I parted from him. I don’t know how the crowd reacted or if they did at all. My entire world was shrunk down to LeFou, his face, his familiar scent like that of cooked apples and cinnamon. I tilted my head back and lifted his hand, with the knife still in it, to my throat. I showed him by feel where to cut. “Just here,” I said gently. “You’ll want to get deep, two inches as least, and about three long. If you hesitate, mon amour…” I could not finish the sentence. We both knew what would happen if the cut went poorly. “I’ll help you as long as I can,” I assured him.

I could feel the tip of the knife trembling against my skin. “Gaston,” he breathed, his voice sounding choked.

“Hush,” I said, “Mon Fabien, this is right. You know this is the right thing to do.” He was so brave, my LeFou. No one else could have done it.

Together, we sliced towards the artery in my neck.

The blade glanced harmlessly off my skin as though I were made of steel. LeFou jerked his hand away and made a strangled noise that reminded me too much of the sounds he had made as I choked him. I gaped in horror at the blade. Would I _have_ to be burned? Was this my curse? I sliced the knife across my palm and watched as red blood welled up. Why would this knife not work on my neck? I was frustrated. LeFou looked like he was trying very hard to not be sick.

It was the prince who leaned down next to me, untying his bow tie and wrapping my cut palm with the white fabric. I gaped up at him, but his hand was gentle on my shoulder, and his eyes seemed kind for the first time. “I guess we’ve got to the bottom of that curse, eh Gaston?”

I did not know what he meant, and I was not thinking clearly enough to puzzle it out. I began to tremble, imperceptibly at first, but soon I was shivering and gasping uncontrollably. I don’t remember much of what was happening, but I remember LeFou rubbing my shoulders. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it over the sound of my own chills.

The prince hoisted LeFou to his feet. “LeFou, dear friend, go fetch the doctor.”

My limbs seemed to grow colder when I heard this. Wouldn’t I transform again? Were they going to kill me while LeFou was away?

LeFou was hesitating too, looking to me and back to Adam.

“Go!” Adam urged LeFou. “I will see that no one harms him.”

Eyes wide with terror, LeFou ran away as quickly as he could. I was not sure the prince could stop this mob. I hoped LeFou would be too slow. If I must be burned, I did not want LeFou to have that memory. I also didn’t want to be conscious for it. I remember clasping the prince’s hem and saying, “Please, look after him.” LeFou was so precious to me. I waited for my transformation to overtake me.

But nothing happened. The townsfolk shifted anxiously, some aiming weapons at me, but yet I did not transform. Soon, LeFou was back with a flask of water. “He’s coming,” LeFou gasped breathlessly. He seemed surprised to see me alive. Everyone stared at him. He stared at Adam.

Prince Adam shrugged. “It seems the curse is broken. Gaston has learned how to love at last.”

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Then we’ll burn him for sodomy!”

 

The prince turned at this, his cheeks flushing in anger. “You will not lay a finger on these men,” he shouted. “Only true love can break a curse, and I will consider any words spoken against love to also be spoken against myself and Princess Belle. If I hear of even one insult towards their affection, I will consider it an insult to myself. I will consider it treason.”

“What about his trial?” Someone else shouted. “ _He_ committed treason!”

Adam waved this off. “There are higher laws than mine.”

By now, the doctor had come. Luc was a fat man, and he was breathing very heavily as he bade me lie down. “He’s in shock,” Luc said. “Get him to a bed, wrap him in some blankets, he should recover soon enough.”

“We can take him to my castle,” Adam said. “I’ll have a cart readied.”

I frantically shook my head. I was genuinely afraid to go back there. I was ashamed of how I had acted there, and in my irrationality, I somehow blamed the castle walls themselves. “Fabien,” I whispered.

LeFou nodded. “He can come back to my cottage.”

Adam took my shoulders and LeFou my feet, and together they dragged me the block or so back to LeFou’s.

Once in the cottage with the door closed behind us, LeFou fetched a blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. Adam pulled me to LeFou’s own bed and bade me lie down. The doctor fussed a bit, but I must have fallen asleep, because next I knew I was waking up to see that it was full dark. I must have slept through the rest of the day.

LeFou was in a chair next to the bed. He was bent over with his head resting on the bed, snoring softly.

I hesitated a moment, but I knew LeFou to be a deep sleeper. His hair looked so soft, and his features so contorted with concern. I reached out and slipped my fingers through his dark curls. 

My heart leapt in my chest. I wanted badly to protect him, but what was there to protect him from besides myself? I would have to learn how to control my anger. I would have to learn how to be a decent friend.

But I also knew I wanted to be more than just a friend to him. It did scare me that the entire town was aware of my deepest-held secret. My face burned to think of the kiss I’d given LeFou. And yet, the prince had promised we would not be harmed as a result our affections. But even had we not had that protection, I was sure I could not go back to bouncing busty maids on my cock to try and forget LeFou’s pale thighs and the long manhood that hung between them. I knew I loved him. I’d had brothers once, and so I knew I loved him differently than one would love a brother.

And here he lay: sweet, kind, honest, loyal, brave LeFou, whose very soul seemed to call out to mine. I laid a kiss upon his crown and slipped back to sleep, my hand still tangled in his hair.


	5. Probation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston commits to doing better. LeFou struggles with trust. Buddy stubbornly persists in not doing a single thing he is told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter, but after the next chapter will be another entire fic set immediately after this one. It will be dramatically different in tone though (all cheesy fluff romance) so I didn't want it to be a part of this one.

When I awoke, I was alone. I felt much better. The cut on my palm throbbed and my muscles ached with abandon, but my head felt clear. I climbed to my feet and noticed that I was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes.

I heard a noise from the main room, so I knew LeFou must be there. I opened the bedroom door with a flourish. There was no particular reason, but I do love a good entrance. LeFou stopped what he was doing at the stove to gape at me for a moment. “Aren’t you… do you feel like you should be up?” He asked.

“I feel better than I have in ages,” I said. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I have potatoes and sausage and eggs just cooked.” He slid the food onto plates and then set them on the table.

I sat at the table and attacked my food with gusto. LeFou was a good cook, and I my stomach ached with hunger. I had not eaten all the day before. I finished my food and noticed LeFou had not touched his. “Are you going to eat that?” I asked. Before he answered, I pushed his food onto my own plate. Soon I had eaten that as well.

When I slumped back into my chair and looked up at him, though, I knew I had already made a mistake. The open, curious expression from just minutes ago was gone. It had been replaced by something suspicious and guarded. “What?” I asked, raising my hands in question.

LeFou focused on my wrists. I had tried so hard to free myself from the ropes the day before that my wrists looked like raw meat, hammered into tenderness. They were a dark, dark purple broken only with the red of blood blisters. Self consciously, I pulled my sleeves down over them.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked.

“What?” I asked.

“The kiss, everything, it was all just another manipulation. You wanted so badly to be free from your ropes that you would have done or said anything.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong about that. I _would_ have done or said anything. But what I _had_ done, what I had said, was no lie. “How can you say that?” I asked. “The curse was broken.”

“Possibly even curses can be manipulated,” he said.

I sighed, seeing where I had gone wrong. I had eaten the entirety of the food LeFou had cooked and never thanked him. I hadn’t even waited to see if he was going to agree to giving me his own plate. I just took. I took and took and took. I felt frustrated. No one had ever taught me how to be different than I was! No one had ever cared if I was selfish before!

“Fabien,” I said, hoping he would take it as a good sign that I remembered not to say LeFou, “Do you have more eggs? Let me make you some eggs or some sausage.”

He shook his head and said, “No, I’m not hungry anyway.” He did look a bit green, now that I thought of it.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I just…” He bit his lip and looked down. “I just can’t believe I fell for it. _Again_.”

He still believed the kiss to be a lie! I confess my ego ached at the insinuation, though I knew I had manipulated him previously and I probably deserved the doubt. I let my fork clatter to my plate in frustration. “Look,” I said, “I’m sorry if I’ve gone about this all wrong. I have no idea how a man… how one man, and another man… I haven’t the faintest clue how to court a man. If you are expecting some particular thing, it’s best you let me know.”

He was giving me quite a queer look. Finally, he said, “I don’t think men _court_ , Gaston. In my experience, they _fuck_.”

I wasn’t terribly surprised that he had ‘experience’. I paid attention to LeFou, to his comings and goings and the others he spoke to. In the army, I had been paying extra attention, as danger was all around. Still, having this confirmed turned my stomach in the familiar sensation of jealousy. My entire life had recently fallen apart due to jealousy, though, so I knew better than to entertain it.

“I’m… I…” I frowned, not sure how to proceed. I also did not know how to _fuck_ a man, though I’d imagined it enough times that I thought I might be able to make a go of it, but that seemed entirely wrong. “I don’t want to _fuck_ you,” I said.

“Oh.” The word sounded bitter, and I knew he’d misunderstood me.

“I don’t mean that I wouldn’t want to. Eventually. Do.” Oh blast. I think I was blushing like a maid. I cleared my throat. “I mean, you deserve better, mon ami. You saved my life.”

“I tried to kill you,” he said without missing a beat.

“And if that had worked, I also would have considered it saving my life. But I mean… everything. You have saved my life every day. You have made my life worth living.”

This finally subdued him to silence. He was watching me warily. I could see hope trying to kindle behind his eyes, and I could see him fighting it.

“I hurt you, and hurt you, and hurt you, and almost killed you. You should not trust your heart to me, mon amour. _You should not_.” I was serious on this point. If LeFou had had the sense God gave him, he would have run from me even now. “But you do. Because you are impossibly forgiving. Impossibly gracious. You are the master of every virtue I lack. And as I have come to see that I lack most virtues, this makes you quite virtuous.” I grinned at him, rather pleased with my little speech.

And yet, though I saw a smile trying to pull on the corner of his mouth, it wasn’t in his eyes. He still did not believe me. Clearly, drastic measures were required. I stood from my chair, kneeled before LeFou, and took his hand. “Mon Fabien, I do not know how to win the love of a man as I do of a woman, but would you consent to letting me try?”

“You… don’t actually know how to win the love of a woman,” LeFou said cruelly. “But you needn’t attempt to win what you already own, Gaston. I may not trust you, but I have always loved you.”

I looked down at his hand. It was smooth and soft, with short fingers and dirt under the nails. On impulse, I kissed first one knuckle, then another, then the next and the next. “Let me earn your trust, then. Let me win over your doubt. Let me make amends for every day in which I took you for granted.”

He swallowed hard and whispered, “I want to learn to trust you, but I don’t know how. I don’t know if I can any more.”

I stood, already trying to order my thoughts. “You needn’t worry about it, mon amour. I will find the way to get you to trust me. I will be Hercules, and this will be my labor. Besides, though I don’t know how to court a man, you don’t know how to be courted by one. That’s good.” I nodded. “If I do something wrong, neither of us will know.”

LeFou laughed, and it was a sound like sunshine. It made me feel warm to my toes. I couldn’t wait to get started at learning how to draw more laughs and smiles from him.

His smile fell too quickly. “I have to tell you,” he said, “we’ve been asked to come to the castle this morning. I’m not sure what it is about...”

“But it can hardly be good news,” I sighed. No one in the castle had reason to be predisposed to me, and Prince Adam had already shown me more kindnesses than I deserved. Well, it could not be helped. I would need to bathe and change. But first, I had something more important to attend to. I went to the stove, stoking it warm again, and began heating more sausages.

“You don’t need to,” LeFou said quietly.

“I want to,” I answered.

*****

We rode our horses to the castle. I would have rather taken the cart, as Buddy was always a nightmare, but LeFou believed the horse merely needed more exercise. Occasionally, I had to kick him from behind to make him walk, so determined was he to disobey every order. As a child, I’d had a horse that would only run if he ran directly behind a mare. He’d been fat and lazy and I admit I missed him a bit. Perhaps I could see why LeFou was attached to Buddy after all.

When we arrived at the castle, we handed the horses over to a stable boy and once again alighted the stairs. Each step gave me shivers. I hated this place. That was unlikely to ever change. Nothing good had ever happened to me here.

Once again, we were shown into the library. This time, a corner was completely taken over by some monstrous contraption that could only have belonged to Maurice. Belle was sorting books into piles when a manservant called Cogsworth announced us.

“Thank you,” Belle said. “Can you get Adam, please?”

Cogsworth bowed and left. Alone with Belle, an uncomfortable silence fell over the three of us. She watched us openly, but I pretended to be interested in the books on the shelves, while LeFou minded his own feet.

Prince Adam entered the room, and the discomfort only grew. He looked around, taking in the depth of silence. “Well?” he said.

“Well?” I asked. “You told _us_ to come here. What’s it to be? Shall I be exiled after all?”

Prince Adam pulled up a chair and sat, crossing his legs. Belle sank to a nearby window seat, setting a few books down beside her. It did not pass my notice that neither LeFou nor I were presented with a seat.

“I don’t think exile is strictly necessary,” Prince Adam said. “First, confirm for me please, are the two of you in love, then?”

LeFou looked over at me, and I gathered I was expected to answer. I stood a bit taller. “You were there in the square yesterday,” I said.

“I was,” he nodded. “But I would rest more easily if you would confirm it.”

I could not even begin to imagine pouring my heart out to these two royal asses. I refused.

LeFou approached me and wrapped a hand around my arm. To Adam he said, “Can you please give us time? Gaston is trying to change, I promise you.”

“I don’t think I can _give you time_ ,” Adam started, but Belle stood and spoke over him.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think they _should_ have time. So long as Gaston behaves himself and doesn’t hurt anyone, and so long as LeFou would like him to stay, I can’t see any reason we couldn’t forgive him.”

“Forgive him?” Prince Adam nearly growled.

But Belle stepped forward and doubled down. “Yes. Forgive him. If Monsieur Gaston is committed to changing his ways, then I for one will not stand opposed to that. If they are truly in love, do they not deserve as much chance as we to find their happiness?”

Prince Adam looked like he was about to argue further with her, but she stared him down, and he shut his mouth. Finally, he said, “Very well.” He pointed a finger to me and added sternly, “If you mistreat LeFou, or your love proves false, you will be exiled. Understood?”

I nodded reluctantly. It was not that I was reluctant to agree to these terms. They seemed unbreakable. How could I mistreat LeFou when my new life’s work was to show him every kindness? How could my love prove false when I had loved LeFou nearly as long as I’d known him? I was reluctant to even interact more than necessary with Adam and Belle. They made me nervous in a way I could not explain. I was not used to anyone having the power of life and death over me, aside from God. I did not like it.

Belle approached me then. She had a book in her hand and she pressed it to her chest. “Monsieur Gaston,” she said, “LeFou may forgive you. And Adam and I may one day come to forgive you. But none of that will be possible if you do not first forgive yourself.”

I felt uncomfortable under her gaze. She seemed to see right through me. I shrugged and tossed my hair, because what else could I do? “I have nothing to forgive myself of,” I scoffed.

“I desperately hope that’s a lie,” she said.

It was a lie, to be sure. I didn’t want to forgive myself for nearly killing LeFou. I didn’t want to forgive myself for using his emotions against him time and time again. I wanted to remember the shame that burned in my chest at the thought of those actions. But I would not explain that to Belle.

When I said nothing more, she shrugged. “Very well then. LeFou, please let us know if there’s anything you require.”

Her question seemed unusually pointed, and I thought there was a subtext I was missing. But I did not puzzle over it long, as I was eager to be out of this castle.

The air outside was too warm and humid. Summer was swelling to its peak. I stripped off my jacket and mounted Magnifique. Once LeFou was mounted, I gave Buddy a surreptitious prod to his read end. Soon LeFou and I were walking our horses side-by-side down the path back to town.

There was something that was eating at me though. In the end, I was powerless to resist my temptation to ask. “Fabien,” I said, “When you said you had experience with men, I know there were some during the war. Has there been anyone since?”

He didn’t answer for long enough that I thought he hadn’t heard me, but finally, he said, “I can’t tell you that, Gaston.”

I understood. LeFou grew unusually still when he was afraid, and he was doing it now. “You think I am going to confront him?”

He scanned the horizon. “It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“But then I know there _has_ been someone.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did, though not in as many words.”

We were silent for a little while as I thought about it, but once I knew, I knew. I saw it in my mind’s eye, the glances exchanged… “When?” I asked.

“Gaston…”

“I mean, how long did this go on?”

LeFou shook his head. “Nothing happened until after you were presumed dead. I just… needed not to be alone.”

I nodded and said nothing more.

“Please don’t hurt him.” LeFou’s voice was quiet and I hated that.

“Never,” I said. And the truth was that I felt no jealousy in that moment. I had been _dead_ , or so LeFou had thought. And regardless, Stanley seemed less like a rival in love than a resource. Yes, I would have to confront him, though not about his congress with LeFou. Rather, I needed to learn as quickly as possible how to court LeFou, and I had no one else to ask.


	6. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston turns to Stanley for dating advice and continues to wallow in self-recrimination.

The afternoon and evening were awkward. We dared not go to the pub. LeFou had often cooked dinner for me, but for the first time I was self-conscious of him doing it. Not, of course, that I in any way objected or interfered. And I certainly ate it. But we didn’t talk much, or even touch. I felt farther from him than ever before.

I watched him, and I saw him watching me, but both of us pretended to be surreptitious about it. As night closed in, I was immensely aware that LeFou might be expecting intimacy. Worse still, I was desperate to touch him. Now that I _could_. For the first time in my life I really could do the things I had dreamed of for years.

So I stayed as far away from him as his house would allow. I had promised that I would win back his trust before I took his virtue. It seemed the right order for things. I had slept with countless women, and I knew well that sex could be meaningless. I did not want to risk that. And I knew that if I came nearer than two or three feet to LeFou, I would not have been able to restrain myself any longer.

As night deepened, I noticed LeFou trying very hard to stay awake. He eschewed the cider with dinner and the cognac I offered after dinner. He sat in the hardest chair, at the front edge of it. He was determined, and I knew why. He feared that I had a plan in mind, and I did. But the fact is, I am simply more determined than even LeFou. I outlasted him.

When he slipped into sleep, I dared not touch him for fear he would wake. I felt almost guilty leaving him slumped in a hard chair as I wrapped a coat around myself and slipped out into the cool and humid night air. Stanley didn’t live very far. He was close to the center of town, and it took me less than five minutes to walk the deserted street. He had a single room next to the tailor’s shop. Stanley was a skilled poynter, and the lace-ridden fashions of Paris kept him in good employ even as far away as Villeneuve.

I was pleased to see light coming under the frame of his door. I knocked.

“Who is it?” he called.

“It’s me,” I answered, sure he would know me from my voice. I was not wrong, as I heard a curse and then some scraping, and finally the banging of window shutters opening on the back side of the house.

I slipped quickly around to the back of Stanley's house, where I found him hanging half out of his window, his night dress having caught on a nail. His feet kicked in an undignified manner. I stood beneath him and gave him a leg up so he could unhitch his dress from the nail.

“Thank you,” he panted. “Gaston’s after me and he--” He turned to see who he was talking to. “And he’s you.”

“Stanley,” I set him firmly on the ground.

“Go on, then,” he said, standing tall. “If you’re here to kill me, let’s be done with it.”

I pouted at him. “I’m hurt. How long have we been friends?”

“Not long enough, evidently.”

“I’m not here to _kill_ you. I’m here to _talk_ to you.”

“Oh?” He looked confused. “Oh. In the middle of the night? Well, alright. I just thought--” He didn’t say what he had thought, but I could guess. “Well, help me back up and I’ll unlock the front door.”

I didn’t help him back up. I easily vaulted through the window myself and then reached down to offer him my hand. He scrambled over the frame. I closed the shutters once again. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” I said, already knowing I hadn’t. The one table in the room held a particularly ornate piece of lace work that appeared to have been dropped mid-stitch. I guessed that was what I had interrupted.

“No, not at all. Uh, how is LeFou?” Stanley still seemed very nervous.

“That’s what I came to talk to you about,” I answered. He sat, wiping his palms on his dress. I noticed a cap covered his meticulous curls. “I know you were intimate with him.”

He wiped his hands again. “We thought you were dead. Otherwise, I never would!”

“Why not?” I asked, puzzled. LeFou and I had not been romantically entangled until _yesterday_.

“Well,” he tilted his head, “I knew there was something there, and whatever it was, I didn’t want to be in the middle of it.”

My eyebrows went up. I didn’t think LeFou and I had been especially noticeable. I knew of LeFou’s affections, but I spent almost all my time with him. He had not known of mine, I don’t think, though perhaps he had suspicions. If Stanley had seen it, perhaps we had been more obvious than I knew. Or maybe Stanley was unusually observant, in which case I had come to the right place. “Maybe you can help me then. You won LeFou’s heart once. How do you court him? What does he like in… in a man?” I hoped I would not be expected to curl my hair and keep it in a cap. That sounded like a lot of work.

Stanley’s mouth gaped open. “We had a good night, Gaston. I’m not sure I would say I won his heart. I don’t think it would even be possible. If I had to guess how to win LeFou’s heart, I would say to do that, you need to be Gaston. And as for what he likes in a man,” Stanley swept his hand through the air, as if presenting my body to an audience, “I think this about covers it.”

“But that’s not good enough. I need to show him I can be _better_. To court a woman, you give her flowers, sing her songs, take a turn through the town with her, have a picnic, ask her hand from her father--”

“How did that work out for you, eh?” Stanley said with a laugh. I understood he was teasing me. I didn’t like it, but I let it slide.

“The point is, I don’t know what attracts LeFou’s attention. How did you do it?”

“Well,” Stanley shrugged, “I danced with him.”

I nodded. “We dance all the time.”

“It was a _waltz_.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, and then I whispered in his ear, and kissed his neck,” Stanley got a far-off look in his eye, and my gut twisted. I had never done those things. “Then we went up the stairs--”

“Stop,” I said, but my voice came out much louder I’d intended. Stanley looked at me wide-eyed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Stanley nodded. Then he sighed and said, “Go home, Gaston. Why are you at my house tormenting yourself with thoughts of me and LeFou, when he is waiting for you at home?”

It was a good question, and I worried I might know the answer. Wasn’t I doing just what he said? _Tormenting_ myself? Did I not deserve a little torment? I thought of how far I’d stayed from LeFou, how determined I was to not touch him, though it pained me. Was it all self-flagellation? I nodded to Stanley and said, “Thank you.”

When my handle was on the knob, Stanley stopped me, saying, “Wait. I think I do have something to help you after all. I make these…” He opened a cabinet and began to rummage in it. “A few of the people in the village, women as well as men, use them. Ah, here.” He produced a small tin and passed it over.

I opened the tin. “What is this?” I said. “It looks like lard.”

“Oh, yes, it is. But very well strained and mixed with just a hint of lavender.”

I smelled it, and it did indeed have a flowery scent. “What is it for?” I asked.

“Truly?” he said. “You have never bedded a man? Never?”

I didn’t answer. To say I hadn’t would be an admission of inferiority. To say I had would be a lie.

“Well, LeFou will know what to do with it,” he said. “And Gaston?”

“Huh?” I said turning once more from the door.

“I’m sure LeFou just wants what anyone wants in courtship-- to be paid a little attention, to have a nice time. You won’t have difficulty.”

I nodded.

“I hope we will see you both back at the Tavern soon.”

This statement did catch me off guard. “I had assumed we wouldn’t be welcomed.”

He shrugged. “People may think what they like, but they are not allowed to speak out against you. The town will move on quickly to less dangerous gossip. And I miss your singing desperately.”

I smiled at that, thinking of the last song LeFou and I sang in the Tavern. I nodded and pocketed the tin. When I clapped Stanley on the shoulder and told him to sleep well, I found I really meant it. He had been a friend for years, but I never felt that I really knew him until that moment. He was almost as kind as LeFou, and LeFou probably did deserve to be with someone like Stanley.

Too bad I am selfish. I had LeFou and I planned to keep him.

*****

The walk home was pleasant, with the sound of night birds echoing through the dark. I strolled rather leisurely, reveling in the idea of coming _home_ to LeFou. I arrived at his cottage just as LeFou was bustling out of the house. He gaped at me. People seemed to be doing that a lot. I plucked the hat off his head and asked. “Where are you going in the middle of the night, mon ami? And why do you need a hat? It’s pitch black out.”

“Where were you?” he hissed. “I was afraid-- I was afraid you might have gone to see Stanley.”

I smiled at this. “I did just that.”

“No,” he whispered. “What did you do?”

“Oh, well, this and that.” I admit I was enjoying the dread and fear on his face, though I can’t say why. “Relax,” I laughed, worried I had kept LeFou in suspense too long. “We just had a talk. He gave me something.” I produced the tin from my pocket.

“Oh,” LeFou said, eyes wide.

“I don’t know what it’s for, but he said you would know.”

“Uh, yes. Yes I do.” It was hard to tell in the darkness, but I thought he might be blushing. “What did you talk to him about?” LeFou asked as he opened his door and stepped back inside.

Following him, I said, “I wanted to know what you liked. How I could catch your attention, as it were.”

“How often do I have to tell you, you _have_ my attention.” He turned to look at me.

I shut the door and said, “Yes, I know. That’s essentially what he said. Before tormenting me by describing how he kissed you.”

LeFou licked his lips. “And you didn’t hurt him?”

“No,” I hummed, moving closer to LeFou. “He asked why I was talking about it with him when I could be here _doing_ it with you.”

“Well?” LeFou asked breathlessly, “Why were you?”

I moved closer to LeFou, until my lips were almost touching his ear. It was terribly convenient that our height difference made whispering in his ear so unbelievably easy. If I were a religious man, I might have thought we were made this way. I kissed the top of his ear and felt a shiver run down his entire body. Into his ear I whispered, “Because I don’t deserve you. Not yet. But I want to.”

When I stepped away from him, he whined. “Gaston,” he panted, “Give me _something_. I’m desperate here. You’re so…” He lifted his hands as if to touch me and then dropped them back to his sides.

I moved back against him, helpless to his pleas, pressing our warm bodies together chest to chest. His hands came back up and found their usual purchase on my biceps. I nuzzled at his shoulder and kissed gently back up to his ear. Into his ear I whispered my deepest secret. It came out of me with an exhalation, with no thought. “I’m frightened, mon amour,” I said. I was not sure what I was frightened _of_ exactly, but I felt as though I was leaning over the edge of the precipice. I was frightened of not having control of anything that happened next.

LeFou wrapped one hand around the back of my neck and brought our foreheads together. He pressed his lips to mine and then whispered, “Je t'aime mon ours.”

I think I about lost my mind with his declaration. I couldn’t get my mouth on his fast enough, my hands searching everywhere for purchase-- his face, shoulders, hips, belly, behind, then back to his face. When there were so many wonderful places to touch him, how was I to decide which was best? His shirt was only impeding the attempt, so I pulled it off him. He was soft and creamy white. It was nothing I had not seen, or felt, or even put my mouth on before. But now I no longer had to pretend that the sight of him didn’t drive me mad with desire.

He pulled at my shirt, and I helped him strip it off me. He ran his fingers across the ridges of my muscles while our mouths danced for purchase. His hands already knew the details of my body, and I was used to the feel of them on me. Whenever I was particularly sore, LeFou had always been kind enough to give me a massage. He had touched all the planes of my back and stomach, all the curves of my arm and ass, but he too had always had to pretend. He had always been careful when massaging me to do so from behind, or ask that I close my eyes, and now I understood why; his cock was straining against his breeches. LeFou was an average-size man, but I already knew there was nothing average about his manhood. How many nights in the war had I kept myself awake, thinking of his long cock? I reached for the tie on his trousers.

I pulled back quickly. “No,” I gasped. “This isn’t right.”

“It feels right to me,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “I haven’t proven myself to you yet. I haven’t proven myself to _me_. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this yet.” I was panting, and my skin was aching for his.

“Alright,” LeFou nodded gently. “How about this? Let’s just lie down.”

I nodded to myself, commending myself for doing what was right. I reached for the blanket I had been using on nights previous and stretched out on the couch.

“Gaston,” he said, looking petulant. “I meant both of us in the same bed.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t we just lie down in bed together? We don’t have to do anything. We can talk, or sleep, anything you like.”

I nodded. I thought I could handle that. We dressed in our night clothes and slipped under the covers. As naturally as breathing, we faced each other, though I was careful to leave a slice of daylight between us. If he touched me again, I didn’t think I could stop.

LeFou was smiling at me. He tapped me gently on the nose. “Belle was right,” he sighed. “You really do need to forgive yourself.”

His words sent me somewhere dark. I did not deserve any forgiveness, from anyone. It was hard to look him in the eye then, so I turned on my back, sighing.

He stroked my hair gently. “It’s okay,” he whispered repeatedly, and though it made me feel like a horse needing gentling, it eased my growing gloom. I closed my eyes, relishing the warmth of him next to me, his gentle touches to my hair. Tomorrow, I thought, I would begin the long work of being worthy of his love. But tonight, I would simply sink into its refuge, and sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I stated before, there is another story that follows immediately on this one, but I did want to separate them because it will be shameless smut and probably not 1st person. Somehow Gaston has to go from afraid to touch LeFou to sucking him off in a barn within one year. So that story is just going to be smut and fluff. I could probably just call it "this story is smut & fluff" but I won't. Keep yours eyes open for The Courtship of LeFou.
> 
> Comments make me feel less lonely <3 Since all my friends ate wtf-ing all over me for the fact that I'm gafou trash now. You know how it is BLAH BLAH VILLAIN BLAH BLAH ABUSIVE BLAH BLAH DESERVES TO DIE and I'm just like, where my peeeeps? I lurk the Tumblr tag but I spend too much time writing to interact much. But the writing is so fun.


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